


So You Want To Marry A Superheroine

by zauberer_sirin



Series: So You Want To Date A Superheroine [3]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Daisy Johnson is the only Marvel Superhero, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Future Fic, Light Angst, Marriage, Phil Coulson Is Great At Emotional Support, Romance, Wedding Fluff, Wedding Planning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2015-12-07
Packaged: 2018-05-05 11:01:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5372873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/pseuds/zauberer_sirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is how a superhero gets married.</p><p>Spoiler alert: it's not easy. She keeps getting interrupted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So You Want To Marry A Superheroine

**monday**

"Okay but–" the noise of bullets passing so close is distracting, more than anything. "I was hoping we could have the whole thing – oh shit, _careful_ –"

She lifts her hand and gives the guys a little taste of their own medicine.

"You would think these people would be smarter than trying to _shoot bullets_ at a superhero," Coulson comments, annoyed too. She likes the way he says the word. It made her feel like a fake at first, but she's gotten used by now.

"The whole thing sorted out," she continues, unfazed by danger. Coulson wants to be impressed, and he is, but he's also worried. Daisy gives him her _stop worrying_ expression when she notices. "Not just having the conversation but actually do the thing."

"You want to do the thing this week?" he asks, surprised, covering her as she advances through the evil lair.

"I'm not a patient person, Phil," she says. "You should have realized that before you _asked_."

She smirks and it's a good thing Coulson is such a professional and can't be distracted by such a thing during a mission.

 

+

 

"Sure you don't want to wait until the medics can do this?" he asks.

"It's okay. I trust you. I also have pretty good healing abilities so the sooner you do this the sooner I'll be okay."

Coulson nods and goes to wash his hands and grab the kit. She's not kidding about the quick recovery time. Her leg is completely healthy by now, no longer bearing the traces of the day Coulson actually proposed and that had been a bad injury. These things vary from Inhuman to Inhuman and they never really know if it has to do with that heritage or the fact that she was pumped with Kree blood once upon a time. Coulson doesn't want to question that last one too much – he's glad she's so resilient.

It's the suit that is actually keeping the bullet in place, only partially lodged into Daisy's arm. She doesn't enjoy the pain, of course, but she always feels safe in Coulson's hands when he does this, the little frown of concentration he has when he patches her up. This has happened a lot of times, she realizes. Not because she's careless; it's a matter of statistic, she's always out here in the field. And Coulson is always right here, by her side at all times.

She lets him do his thing, lulled by the low hum of the plane into a comfortable state of detachment as Coulson removes the bullet.

“Thank you,” she says when he finishes carefully bandaging her arm. He gives an amused expression - she always says thanks, even after all these years, He touches his thumb to his meticulous work, satisfied it stopped the bleeding.

"You should take these now," he says, offering some strong painkillers.

"If I do I'm going to be out for the rest of the day," she protests.

"That's fine."

"But I wanted to have the conversation today."

He touches her shoulder gently, a bit touched by her impatient. He didn’t think he was worth the hurry.

"I know, but – circumstances,” he says. “We got shot at."

She takes the painkillers out of his hand, shrugging. "I guess you're right. It can wait one day."

When they get home she's already unconscious and Coulson carries her to their quarters. She's too heavy and he's too old for this but she keeps whispering little nonsense into his neck all the way, brushing her face against Coulson's beard and letting out a pleased noise at the sensation. Coulson lies her gently on their bed, willing to wait one day or whatever it takes to have a proper conversation about this.

 

**tuesday**

"Dude, I'm _recovering_ here," Daisy protests, gesturing at the bandage on her arm. "And really, ice powers? A bit clichéd, don't you think?" The villains growls. "Okay."

"Are you all right?" Coulson asks through comms.

"No. I'm sore and _annoyed_ ," she replies, multitasking. "We should be talking about the thing, instead of creeps who can control cold."

"Don't worry about that now," he says. "Focus. I'm cutting the next two streets so you don't have to worry about civilians walking into your fight."

Look who's all skilled in hacking the DC's traffic matrix these days, Daisy thinks with certain pride. She taught him everything he knows, for the record.

Coulson has to admit he enjoys taking point when it's Daisy at the other end of the line. After relinquishing the role of Director and going rogue for a while and then coming back as consultant to Daisy's team (it’s a long story) he knew he had to earn back his place in SHIELD day by day. That was a while back and he's once again carrying the weight of a lot of responsibility but he keeps doing this, going with her on missions, taking a more background role, talking her back to safety. He does a very good job of it, for the record – even though one of the first things he did in this role was start a romance with his superior, but he hopes that doesn't speak for his lack of his professionalism.

"The guy has frozen the sidewalk," Daisy tells him, her voice between bothered and in awe.

"What are you thinking? _Break the ice_?"

"You can't help yourself, can you?"

He can hear her smile through the line and that's one of the best parts of the job. Imagining her expressions based on her tone. And he knows her so well they're normally accurate.

"I don't want you to think I'm avoiding talking about the thing," she tells him.

Coulson smiles. The way she calls it "the thing", casually but with affection. The wording makes her sound younger for a moment.

"I _didn't_ think you were trying to avoid talking about it, I didn't imagine you'd orchestrate an Inhuman attack to get out of the conversation. Now I'm worried."

"Ice broken," she says and it takes Coulson a moment to realize she's talking about the mission. "Can you bring up the building plans? I think I can cut him off from behind."

He moves through the van to the other computer. "Coming up in a minute. You need back up?"

"Too risky," she replies. "And you know, that's the problem. _Other people_. I guess the first thing we should do about the thing is tell the team... About the thing."

"I assumed that was the first step," Coulson says, while he sends the intel she needs to her PDA. He shares Daisy's unease at the idea, though he's not sure where it comes from, no one is going to oppose it. They didn’t when they found out they were a couple. This development is a lot smaller, all things considered.

“Ah - ouch,” Daisy lets out, embarrassed to let Coulson know that -

“You just slipped on the ice and fell flat on your ass. Didn’t you?”

He hears a very undignified grunt coming in through the line.

 

+

 

Again they get in late and Daisy marches directly to the kitchen and directly to the fridge to unearth some half-forgotten ice cream tub from the back of the freezer. She falls on the couch, and Coulson is too tired to do anything but follow her and share spoonful after spoonful of chocolate with her.

“I’ve had ice cream on the brain since we finished.”

“I can see that,” Coulson tells her, passing the spoon back and forth and settling on the couch against her, both things disgustingly domestic and quite usual by now. This is your life, Coulson thinks; surreal missions and comfort food with a superhero at the end of the day.

"Another bust," she says, letting Coulson rest his legs on her lap. She's not talking about the mission.

"Part of me can't wait to tell everybody," he says, licking the spoon. "And part of me likes the idea of having this secret. It reminds me of when we started."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," she smiles and pulls him towards her, Coulson scooting over diligently. "And I know it's a silly thing and it means nothing..."

"It is silly and it means nothing," he agrees. They already talked about how most of the fiscal and legal advantages of marriage did not apply to them, but they also talked –in softer, more loving voices– about how if something happened to any of them they'd want the other to be covered (Daisy didn’t like this part of the conversation, for the record), and the implicit agreement that they'd want the world to know what they were to each other, that they wouldn't want _this_ to disappear without a trace even if they did. "But if you want to have silly things that mean nothing... then it becomes important."

Daisy scratches the back of his neck like he's a pet, in appreciation.

"It's just that there's a lot of stuff associated with this thing," she says. "There's this expectations and the history and the–"

"The patriarchy?" Coulson helps out.

"Yes! _The patriarchy_. And it's the kind of thing someone like me has always feared, the trappings of this,” she explains, Coulson nodding along. She used to believe she’d be mocked if she talked seriously about these these with anyone. Lucky that feeling has disappeared in the last few years. “And then I see something like what May and Andrew have and it's nothing like that. It’s not a con."

"Well, not everybody can be May and Andrew, I agree," Coulson offers. For him it's a tension between his very conventional side and the fact that, having grown up in the 1970s, he's not sure he has an opinion on marriage much better than Daisy's.

His other fears - the ones always there, from the beginning, about himself, about not being enough for her - Daisy knows all too well, she doesn’t need a repeat right now.

He smiles at her while he takes another bite of chocolate ice cream, happy to be sharing her fears as well as her food.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that? Daisy asks, noticing his eyes going all big and soft.

"I like it when we talk," he tells her, because it's not something that comes easy to him, even now, even with her. "When we just figure things out together."

"Me too," she says, distractedly caressing the side of Coulson's leg through his clothes. "But listen, I know this sounds twisted but when you grow up an orphan you become obsessed with the idea of _belonging_ to someone. And when I got older I started hating that, this sick concept of ownership. I don't want to belong to anyone, not even you."

"I don't think you're at any risk of that," Coulson tells her, smiling at how passionate about _everything_ she is, she still is, after all this time. "But I don’t want to see you stressing yourself out. Why don't we just finish the ice cream and leave the rest for tomorrow?"

She takes the spoon from Coulson's hand, brushing her thumb deliberately against his knuckles.

"That's an excellent idea, Agent Coulson"

"What are the chances of getting another day like the last couple tomorrow? It'll probably be quiet and peaceful. We’ll talk then."

 

**wednesday**

"Well, that's pretty... uh, you know," Skye says, smiling because she doesn't like to do that kind of jokes, even when she knows he's okay with them, but this pun is kind of staring them in the face.

" _Handy_? Yeah," he replies, holding on as the current eats through the state-of-the-art, really expensive robot hand until it stops. "Good thing Fitz decided to coat the thing with an extra anti-conductive layer."

Even so that layer is only resistant enough that Coulson lasts until the weapon short-circuits and the only damage is the sparks eating through his shirt in a moment.

"We'd be toast otherwise," Skye says, grabbing his arm to take a good look at his possible injuries. The skin around the implant seems coated in a painful-looking scorched-black tone but the wound doesn't really go deep. It just stings a bit. "An electrical attack is the one thing I can't protect us from."

"It's okay," he says, rather smugly. "I'm here."

Skye grabs him by the bulletproof vest. "Hey," she says." You just saved my life here."

She kisses him. He sighs into it. They are supposed to be discussing plans for the future, mundane wedding details, not risking their lives again for a third day in a row. But the kiss is nice, Coulson decides.

Once back in the Playground she stays by his side as Fitz runs diagnostics on what's left of his prosthetic and the doctors take care of the shallow burns around the stump.

"I was headed for hand number eight anyway," he tries to shrug it off.

 

+

 

"It hurts, I know," she says, sitting by his side, cross-legged on their bed while she runs a comforting hand across his back. She rests her chin on his shoulder, wrapping her other arm around Coulson's chest.

"It always hurts," he sighs, their usual call-and-response for when he’s not feeling 100% about his hand, poking a bit at the bandages Simmons has set over the burns.

"I know that too," Daisy tells him.

He lies on his back, looking at the familiar brick ceiling.

"I'm sorry we didn't get to talk to people or start organizing today either," he says. “I know you wanted to.”

Marriage still seems like a faraway thing, despite their joint resolve. Maybe because by the time he and Daisy started a relationship Coulson had already given up all hopes of something as simple as a wedding. In fact by that time he had assumed that he would be putting anyone he cared about in danger, if he ever got close to anyone like that. Daisy had dispelled him of that notion with a bit of effort but stunning results.

Daisy lies down by his side, resting her arm on his chest, tapping her fingers gently over his heart, sending calming vibrations through his body with her powers.

“That’s - it doesn’t matter,” she says. “I just need to know you’re okay.”

“I’ll be fine,” he tells her, pressing his face into her hair.

Daisy never quite believes him when he uses that voice (but he knows that) so she pulls him tight against her.

 

**thursday**

They try it over breakfast this time.

Coulson is eyeing his replacement prosthetic like he's suspicious, but as he pours coffee for both him and Daisy everything goes smoothly.

"Do I need to buy you a ring?" he asks, out of the blue.

Daisy admits that hadn’t even occurred to her.

"Don't you have some family relic? You look like the kind of guy who keeps his grandmother's wedding ring in a box somewhere."

She suddenly remembers something Cal told her just before getting his memories wiped. About him and Jiaying not having wedding rings for months before they figured maybe they should buy some, and how in love they were with their own unconventionality. Cal told her many stories about her mother in those few days Daisy got to spend with him. She wonders what he would think about the thing. He did try to kill Coulson a couple of times – which in hindsight could have made for some hilarious father-in-law stories if Cal remembered Coulson or Daisy at all. She chooses to believe he'd be okay with it. Worried about the whole human-Inhuman combination, traditionally not the safest. But okay with it. Happy that she's happy. And she is. Right here at the kitchen table with Coulson. She's happy. It’s still shocking, how that feels.

He probably has some old family ring in some safe location somewhere, Coulson realizes. If he does he can’t remember anything about it, maybe because he thought he’d never be needing it. He wonders if Daisy is just joking about the stuff.

"The license arrived, by the way," she says. "The e-license, to be specific."

She had actually offered to bypass the whole waiting-three-days period issue ("I used to be Skye of the Rising Tide, remember?" she had teased him) but Coulson insisted on doing this with a semblance of legality. He's fifty-three, he should be allowed some traditional fixtures in this.

"That's..."

"The _electronic_ part doesn’t sound that romantic, does it?" Daisy says.

"No, it doesn’t."

He leans over the table and kisses her, making up for it a bit.

"Boss," a voice calls.

It's Agent Gutierrez, and Coulson could kill him for how crappy it feels to have Daisy's mouth suddenly pulled away from his lips. But Coulson is working on his anger issues these days so he'll let Joey live for now.

"Here we go," Coulson mutters, getting up.

"Why don't you sit this one out?" Daisy tells him, curling her fingers around his shoulder and forcing him back on the chair. "You're still on the mend."

"But–"

"It's okay. Joey will take care of me, right, Joey?"

The man takes it a little too seriously and nods at Coulson solemnly.

“Okay,” he agrees, touching the back of Daisy’s hand. “Be careful.” He kisses her again, quickly. “And _kick some ass_.”

She smiles against his mouth.

“Please, Coulson. It’s me, that’s like a given.”

 

+

 

She's kissing him again, now with post-mission adrenaline and hurry, pinning him down to their bed and wrinkling his clothes. Coulson spent all afternoon doing very boring desk work and waiting for her, so he's glad for the distraction and for her familiar weight on his body. He's kissing her back and thinking – thinking about this whole week, about the obstacles, and thinking too much. Daisy starts undoing the buttons of his shirt and he’s still thinking too much.

"Are you going to tell Lincoln?" he asks, regretting it as soon as the words leave his mouth.

"Holy shit, Phil, you really know how to kill the mood."

She stops and props herself on his shoulders, giving him a hard stare from above.

"I was just – I was just asking."

"Yeah, I'm going to invite him. Him and Miles, they're going to be your best men, the three of you are wearing matching suits."

That's not exactly a fair comparison but Coulson knows he has no say in the matter. He would preferred it if she told Campbell, though. The man had tried to be there for Daisy when Coulson couldn't or didn't want to be, and though his efforts had been somewhat misguided in essence it would be hypocritical of him to judge.

He lifts his hand to her back, stroking her spine as apology.

"Yeah, I was going to tell him, don't worry," Daisy says, serious now. "Miles, too, actually. Did you know he's living in Hong Kong now? Ironic."

Coulson smiles, but Daisy can see the effort in it, he's distracted by the issue. She feels a bit bad, because it's not like he can go phone his ex-girlfriends to tell him the good news. One of them thinks he's dead and the other ex-girlfriend... yeah.

"I'm sorry you can't tell..." he starts but trails off, realizing his mistake.

"What?"

He runs his hand through her hair. "I was thinking about Cal."

Oh. He wasn't thinking about himself at all. Daisy feels a bit guilty.

"I hadn't even think of that until this morning, actually," she admits. She guesses when you grow up without a family the expectations are different, you don't really have much hopes of having people to share this kind of stuff with, you don’t daydream about sitting arrangements when there’s no one to sit on the side of the bride. But that's something she's already talked about with Coulson, in very broad terms, and he's already tried to distract her with his serious jokes about not being the kind of ideal fiance a family wants for their daughter and they had left it at that, in jokes and fears and inadequacy.

But now she's thinking about it again, and even though she knows she lost her father a long time ago, almost thirty years ago if she's honest, it feels weird that he just lives a couple of hours away yet she’s not be able to share this with him.

"I do have a gift for killing the mood," Coulson says.

She drops her head to his shoulder. "One of your many talents."

“I’m sorry,” he says, arching up to slide his mouth over Daisy’s throat. “Let me make up for it. With some of my _other_ talents.”

Daisy laughs against him. “Of which sexy talk is obviously another,” she tells him, then sinks into his touch anyway.

 

**friday**

Mack and Bobbi get hurt working under her orders. It's nothing major, in the end they walk out of there all on their own, but the scare is pretty important and it shakes Daisy to the core. The villain of the hour was trying to get her, and Mack and Bobbi were in the way. Collateral.

That’s never going to stop, is it? Daisy wonders as she watches her two teammates getting patched up. She’s always going to get people hurt. It’s what she does. No - it’s who she is.

"Maybe you shouldn't marry me," she tells Coulson when she comes back from the lab, from checking her partners will be okay.

He grabs her hand and guides her through their room, seeing how affected she looks. "Fine, but you should take a shower first."

He waits for her sitting on the bed, and she towels her hair all the way to him, still the same expression on her face. The warm water has dulled some of the exhaustion, but nothing else.

"How are Bobbi and Mack?" Coulson asks, though he knows, because he wants her to say the words.

She shrugs, drops of water falling on her shoulders, on the fabric of the oversized t-shirt Coulson no longer remembers used to be his. "Fine, I guess. Bruised. Cranky because the suspect escaped."

"Powerful?"

"Can go through walls," Daisy explains.

Coulson opens his arms and she climbs into bed, settles between his legs and lets him finish with her hair.

"That's new," he says, thinking about Gordon, thinking how dangerous this could be.

"It's going to be a difficult one, probably," Daisy says. Coulson squeezes her shoulders, putting the towel aside and turning her in his arms so they are face to face.

"Now what was that about how I shouldn't marry you?"

She instinctively curls her fingers around his left arm. "I'm not safe," she says.

How is this new? Coulson thinks. They have never been safe for each other. There was a time when he thought that mattered a lot, but he changed his mind the hard way. Now… he doesn’t know how to put it (wishes he were better at it, better at actually saying it, for Daisy, knowing in so many regards it’s too late for him, grateful Daisy doesn’t seem to care) but the idea seems so small compared to what they have. Compared to moments like this, when he pulls her towards him and lightly touches her knees, the top of her thighs, trying to comfort her.

"What if making if official puts you at risk?" she suggests. "What if because you're my... then the bad guys...?"

Coulson cups her face in his hands. She knows these are very comicbook concerns to have and she's hoping Coulson says something Coulson-esque right now that allows her to stop thinking like that. But then he looks down again.

"Do you think I don't understand?" he says softly, dropping his hands as well, wrapping his fingers around her ankles. "How many people have been hurt – even killed – because of my actions or simply because they were close to me?"

"I'm so sorry, Phil, I wasn't thinking–"

"How many times have _you_ gotten hurt because of me?" he adds, lifting his hand to her hair, meeting her eyes as he moves his mouth over her cheek.

"Those times weren't your fault."

"And Mack and Bobbi aren't your fault. Just like Trip wasn't. Or my hand," he says, firmly. "But _you know that_. I know you do. And if someone understands the desire to pull away from each other for fear of getting the other hurt... that's me."

"Pulling away from each other is us _getting hurt_ ," Daisy points out, very wise, but Coulson almost smiles because somehow she has ended up on the other side of her own argument. He thinks she might just want to always prove him wrong.

"It's not worth it," he agrees. "I don't think it is."

She touches her fingertips to his mouth. She agrees with him. Even if it gets him bruised.

"I would marry you _tomorrow_ if you let me," he adds.

Daisy drops her shoulders, like some of the tension has just been sucked out of her.

"Okay," she says in a small voice.

" _Okay_?"

"No more talking about the thing," she decides. "We got the license. Let's just walk into a courthouse and do it and walk out. Twenty minutes tops."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yes,” he assures her. “Tomorrow. First thing in the morning."

They smile at each other, drunk with their resolution. At last. He takes her face in his hands again and kisses her. Daisy doesn't forget about Bobbi and Mack getting hurt, not for one moment, but days like today are the reason why she needs to hold on to happiness like this, so tight.

 

**saturday**

The call comes exactly three minutes after they finish signing their names.

To be honest, they thought it would come much, much sooner, when they were in the middle of it.

They both look at their phones.

"And you thought this was going to cut into a work life," Coulson teases, but Daisy can tell he's a bit heartbroken.

She is, too.

Three minutes to enjoy it before they have to go off to fight some villain not knowing if they will make it out alive. In other words, their regular lives.

She sighs, and Coulson presses his hand against the small of her back and she feels a bit better and alternatively worse, because it makes her remember why she is doing this with this guy in the first place.

Coulson can barely stand her expression of disappointment. But she’s actually thinking the same.

He didn't even shave for this, Daisy suddenly notices, amused. Though she does love the look of him in that black _Reservoir Dogs_ -style suit. Now that's elegance. Pity that they have to change into mission clothes again.

"Hey, I remember this dress," Coulson says, caressing the hem of it just as she is taking it off so no one would suspect where they’ve been to this morning.

"Something old," she replies, wishing they had more time for this.

 

+

 

It's not even a emergency per se, they just need her powers for some stupid science thing.

Daisy keeps eyeing Coulson through it all, throwing looks of despair his way across the freaking lab (is she about to break every glass in the place? Coulson wonders; _probably_ and she'd be justified).

They spend the day trapped in there, testing Daisy's powers against a new material found in possession of the bad guys. A new material they suspect the bad guys might have designed with Daisy in mind. Joy. If she wasn’t so distracted by the other stuff she’s be actually alarmed about this.

So with one lunch break where she and Coulson eat sad, commiserating sandwiches and touch each other in the small of the back for solace, that's how they spend their wedding day. Daisy goes through the motions – testing different kinds of vibrations that could get through the material, sometimes getting frustrated with her failure ("Erlenmeyer flasks do not grow on trees!" Fitz complains), sometimes just apathetic, about to pass out from boredom. She had imagined her wedding day as being disastrous many times (last night she even had a weird dream where an Inhuman was reenacting _King Kong_ on them and dragging Coulson to the top of the Empire State Building for Daisy to go and rescue, and in her dream she kept shouting "But we're in Washington!" at the creature, like that was the main problem) but she had never imagined it would be boring.

Coulson just wishes there was something he could do for her. Even in this he is a failure. He couldn't even give her a joyful wedding day. How is he supposed to make her happy for the long run if he can't manage even one lousy day? He shoves his hands in his pockets as he watches her struggle with her task through the glass.

Until, during the next break, Daisy grabs him by the arm and tells him to leave.

"Look, there's no need for you to be here, you can escape," she says. "We don't have to be both miserable."

"Why would you be miserable?" May asks in passing, like she's not really interested in their private conversation.

Coulson looks at Daisy, wondering if he can give up the charade. He's tired. She gives him a little nod and he produces a piece of paper from his breast pocket, gives it to May.

May stares at it for a long moment, like its meaning is somehowmysterious. "Is this real?" she asks Coulson. Well, well, if he didn't know her better he'd say Melinda May is pretty impressed with him right now. Coulson raises a cocky eyebrow in confirmation.

Daisy watches as May passes the very official very important paper around the room. She's a bit hurt by some of the shocked (she's not going to say appalled) reactions from her team. _Hey_. That's not polite. She's been working very hard for today to happen. She's been working for like a week. They should be more respectful. She's a married woman now. That comes with extra respect from your peers. Right?

There's a moment of cacophonic confusion as everyone is trying to talk over everyone else and only words like "married" and "what?!" make it to the surface. Simmons is the only one with enough decency to walk to them and congratulate the couple. She even hugs Coulson – that's kind of cute, Daisy decides, Coulson is a deliciously embarrassed but nice hugger.

"Wait, wait," Bobbi finally interjects, moving her hands to silence the room. "Are you telling me you got married this morning and you've spent the last six hours stuck with us in the lab?"

"Pretty much," Coulson confirms with an apologetic look.

"Why are you not on your way to the best hotel in town to tear each other clothes' apart?" Bobbi asks, genuinely confused and giving them the permission they need.

Fitz mutters " _no, no_ " at the suggestion.

Daisy takes a moment to realize – Coulson is already pocketing his phone and grabbing Daisy’s jacket – but then her face lights up when she turns to Bobbi.

"Agent Morse," she says, grabbing the taller woman's shoulders and giving her a quick, enthusiastic hug, even though Bobbi is still recovering from her injuries. "You're the greatest human being on the planet."

But before Bobbi can reply to that Coulson is already taking Daisy by the arm, taking her away from the lab, and in a moment they disappear, swift and inexplicably, like cartoon characters not bound by the laws of physics.

The one thing Daisy really regrets about today, though, is that they don’t get to paint “just married” on Lola before they make their escape.

 

**monday**

She watches the light go up from a little glimmer at the bottom of the window to a pink tint spreading across half of it.

Coulson walks up from behind her, one soft hand on her shoulder, a firm grip on her waist.

"Hey, it's already morning," he says, resting his chin on her the curve of her neck and wondering how long Daisy has been awake and here, looking at the city in silence.

They have been locked in this hotel room for two nights and one day, room service piling up, Coulson letting his beard grow even wilder, Daisy bearing the happy marks of this development all over the inside of her thighs. He looks around and notices the bits of hotel stationery lying around, from when Daisy, drunk on champagne, forced him (“commandeered” was her word) to practice his “new signature” and now there are sheets of paper with different versions of “Phil Johnson-Coulson” all over it.

"Do you feel different?" he asks her.

"Not one bit," Daisy replies with a low chuckle.

She thought she would. That being a married woman would somehow make her feel older and wiser. But spending two days in a hotel room enjoying great sex and expensive food and drink has not helped her feel more mature. At all.

He smiles back against her nape, then it turns into laughter as well. He had some silly notion that this would change him, attaining something that had felt so unattainable for so long. But they're the same people as two days ago. It's just Daisy and him. In a nice hotel room, just. But nothing has changed. He realizes that's a good thing.

He laces his fingers over her stomach.

"Are you all right?" he asks.

Daisy presses her whole body against him, looking out as pink light turns to orange and their future starts.

"I am now."


End file.
